


Beneath the Stars

by shade105



Category: Legend of Spyro
Genre: F/M, Warfang, after the war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1249069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shade105/pseuds/shade105
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy late valentines, folks! Here's a little gift from my part for you huge SxC fans. Cynder is lost as she looks for a gift suitable for Spyro. Prepare for much a roller-coaster of emotions that take you from feeling sad, to enjoying massive fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Twilight had come to the Plains of Warfang on that cold October day. The streets of the crowded town began to grow silent as the falling sun stretched shadows over everything. The merchants in the street began to serenely count their daily profit to close shop, and even the most important shopkeepers were preparing to place a “closed” sign on the display windows of their great stores. It seemed to them that no one would be asking for their services for the rest of that day; but as any clever shopkeeper knows, there are some who do, and those sad and desperate last minute shoppers are willing to spend a good goldsworth. 

One of those sad and desperate shoppers was ironically none other than the carefully prepared and clockwork efficient she-dragon, Cynder. The master of careful planning comically ran from one shop to another to butt in and browse the store right before they closed the door on her. Some keepers were impatient, wanting to head home to their mates and children, as well as the warm supper that would be prepared for them. Other vendors, the slier bunch, one might say, welcomed her in, but would elevate the price of everything they sold tenfold. Even the black dragoness, endowed with good coin, was struck with awe at the boost in price.

“Fifteen gold coins!?! But this bracelet only cost thirty silver in the afternoon!” she would say.

“Sorry,” they would reply. “I own this shop, and I make the rules. You dragons can’t control everything y’know.”

But Cynder would have not hesitated to pay for these barbarically overpriced items, if only they were what she wanted. The young dragoness was looking for something of extraordinary value, and that something had to be worth more than anything in this world.

In fact, such had to be the extraordinary nature of this item that some jewelry-smiths, tired of having her present –and of course, I speak of the un-sly here-, would offer discounts on their most valued creations, but she would turn them down.

“If this isn’t an anniversary gift,” they would say, holding shining charms with precious jewels. “Then I don’t know what is.”

“Sorry… but I don’t think it would suit him,” Cynder would answer.

“Come on! It’s the purple dragon,” the keeper would respond “Dress him in gold, like the king he is!”

Many citizens of Warfang would see Spyro as one of two: A king, lover of power and wealth, or a savior, stuck in a state of untouchable sanctity while he didn’t fight to save the world. Those who spoke of the purple dragon’s relationship with Cynder –which were a tremendous number of people throughout the entire realm, had either one of two opinions: either they thought she wished to be his queen to regain the power she had as the beast she was before, or she was there to soil his divinity. Neither opinion favored the former Terror of the Skies, but that didn’t surprise her.

Instead, she would be bothered by the false image they had of Spyro. If anything, he was a regular, warm hearted dragon with the desire to do well. The purple savior was anything but power-hungry. His simple background and kind nature pushed him away from it. He merely had to govern now and then because the citizens of Warfang would clamor for it. Cynder hated this the most about the people. Why ask for his help when they would only attack him right after?  
“I’m really sorry,” Cynder said to one jewel-smith. “It’s not his type of gift.”

“Wow, you’re picky even for a dragon,” the jewel smith answered. “Then again… you are…-.” But before he could proceed to insult her, she was out the door.

But what was his type of gift? This, Cynder could not answer as she would go from jewel-smith, to seamstress, to perfumer. Her stops to find his mate the perfect anniversary gift would all end up in Cynder leaving the store empty handed, with an irritated shopkeeper –who clearly realized he wasted his time with her- closing his shop door a little too hard as soon as she would leave. Not before long, the sun crept behind the city’s stone walls, and closing time became official for nearly all stores.

So Cynder was left alone in the lamp-lit solitude of the shop avenue with her wool cloak to protect her from the cold. A chill-wind blew right into the alley, and caused Cynder to shake violently. She looked to the inns and pubs in the area, and saw the many happy faces of moles and felines enjoying warm brews and strong ales. She noticed a feline couple sitting in the outer tables of a dining hall. The waiters treated them with great care, bringing out hot tea and custards for the two to feast on. Oh how they laughed and embraced each other. What’s more, the people around them were congratulating the two.

“Cheers!” one of the male feline’s mole friends shouted, lifting his cup. “To this wonderful couple, that just recently became mates.”

Cynder looked down. To have this kind of social interaction, or acceptance, was impossible for the two. Cynder, entering any establishment on her own, would cause enough friction as it was. Dining halls and pubs would go quiet with her presence. The older moles, veterans of the Old War, would stand up and leave from the establishment, followed by their friends and family. The manager would serve her himself, and the treatment would be poor.

With Spyro, little was different. The moles and felines of great age had forgotten what dragon couples were like, and the new ones found it foreign all together. Intrigue and massive suspicion would only make the matter worse. Here the two were: Hero and Enemy. Foe and Ally. Cynder had never really been accepted openly after the war, she was still, to the poor and ignorant –which were many, a disgrace. So how could their prophetic master turn on them like this? With Spyro, there would be more murmuring around them than anything. Even temple feasts harbored secret comments about them.

As one of the many companions of this couple turned and stared at Cynder in her green cloak in silence, she turned and walked away.

As she walked onward, she turned towards a road she knew all too well. A block away from where she stood there was a little bookstore. The store was owned by Omismark, a friendly mole that loved literature as much as Cynder did. The store was open from when the sun would rise, to when the first moon would sink, for he believed that all people had the right to read. He worked tirelessly with his printing press, forging as many copies of the greatest books known to the realm. He believed that he or she who read would elevate themselves from mundane ignorance. His view of the world is what drew Cynder to this mole. What surprised her more was the fact that he did not show any sign of fear or shock when he met her. He told her on that day that she was one black dragon of many, and that like the hero can fall into the dark grip of evil, so can the villain rise to be a saint.  
The moment Cynder entered the book store, and rung the little charming bell by the door, Omismark raised his head to look at the dragoness with his massive, thick glasses. He squinted for a moment, as he had been reading a heavy text.

“Ahhh… Cynder!” he shouted in a gentle, elderly voice.

“Hello Omismark,” Cynder replied in what seemed the happiest tone of voice she could create. As she entered the door, it closed, and the bell rung again. Cynder looked about, and noticed a few other moles, and one or two aged felines sitting on the old couches and around the tables of the establishment. They all appeared to be under the mystical charm of fiction, lost in a different world.

“Tell me, young dragoness,” Omismark started, as he jumped down from his high chair. He vanished behind his large counter for a moment, and only began to speak again as soon as he appeared around it again. “What brings you about at this late hour?”

Cynder looked down to her side, and sat silently.

“The brutes outside this door didn’t say anything to you, did they?” he shook his head. “For if they did, I have good reason to write a letter to the editor of The Warfang Reader.” Cynder snickered, at this old mole´s refined humor. It always seemed to cheer her up.

“No, no, that’s not it,” Cynder answered.

“Shucks… If you want, you can make it up and I could still write my letter,” he smiled in a mischievous as Cynder giggled some more and shook her head. “I kid, of course; lying is the worst of wrongs!” The elder moles laughed in a warm manner, as he pulled on his suspenders. They snapped back to place as he let go. “So tell me dear, what’s your problem?”

“Well,” Cynder began “I’ve just been having a hard time finding a good gift for someone close to me.” The mole grinned again, more mischievously than before.

“Well, unless you’re talking about me, or that little gnat companion of yours, I’m positive that it’s a gift for Spyro.” Cynder blushed as a smile emerged on her face.

“Well, yes.” She shook her head. “You know me too well.”

“Well, he who reads knows more and less every day. I, of course, don’t get the latter.” He snickered again, as he bent down and slapped his knee. Cynder made a crooked grin, and shook his head again. “I kid, of course!” He stood up in an elegant manner. “Tell me, dear. What’s the occasion?” As he clasped his hands together, the dragoness’ smile softened.  
“It’s our mateship anniversary,” Cynder replied as she shifted herself on her haunches. The dragoness showed clear signs of excitement, as her smile got nervous and she began to tap her tail.

“Well, I’ll be cursed,” Omismark answered. He pointed to Cynder and chuckled as he noticed her tail tap. “And I can assume it’s been a good year, considering the fact that I’ll have to replace the floor after this conversation.” Cynder looked back to her tail, and noticed that its sharp tip was carving the wood of the floorboards out.

“Oh!” she yelped as she stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I need to have them changed anyway. Heavy book shelves and wood flooring dislike each other.” The dragoness looked down and blushed with embarrassment. Omismark lifted his glasses on his face, and squinted. “So when is the anniversary?” Cynder frowned, as she looked up.

“Tomorrow, and I think every other store but yours is closed,” she said worriedly. As Cynder pushed her eye ridged together, her old friend looked to the sky as to think. He remained this way for a moment, until he looked down and his face lit up.

“Well, I believe that perhaps a book here might solve your grand problem!” He turned as quickly as a rather elderly mole could, and walked into the depths of the shelves behind his counter. The books there were reserved only for special occasions, and Omismark would rarely give them away. The books in these shelves were either original copies, or one of his first replicas. The sentimental value for these books was great.

The mole vanished for a long time. At first Cynder waited patiently by the door where she was originally, but then a feline costumer walked in and Cynder had to move aside. As she waited, she was drawn to the books in the “New Releases” collection. Omismark was a master of retrieving original texts of ancient tales as well as new and versatile manuscripts by young authors. His surprising level of openness towards every type of book made his collection exquisite. What made it all the better is that he did not make replicas of books until he had read that book himself. If you asked, Omismark would give you a refined analysis of why the book was, or wasn’t worth your time.

As Cynder began to browse through the “New and Versatile” he noticed that the mole had return, and was walking towards her.

“What do you say about Sons of Glory?” Cynder asked, as she picked a read.

“It’s a compilation of many true Old War stories made into fiction,” Omismark answered. “The premise is good, but the writing is a little sloppy.”

“Oh,” Cynder replied, as she put the book back down on the shelf. It was curious to think that whenever anyone referred to the “Old War” it meant a war in which Cynder herself was in. The great loss of lives was what gave it its name. Nearly a whole generation was destroyed, and all, Cynder thought momentarily, was in part thanks to her. Omismark looked up to her face, and noticed the sorrow she felt now. He put a hand on her, and gestured her to look to him.

“But forget about those old war tales, Cynder. They’re poorly written anyway,” he added, as he tried to draw her attention away from horrid thoughts with his playful humor. “Look at this.” He presented the book he was holding in his hands with pride. Cynder looked down and read the title: Urban Love Songs: Lore of the Yonder Years as Told by our Ancestors. The dragoness was immediately interested, for of all the literature she liked to read, lore was her favorite. Its air of fantasy combined with idiosyncratic realism made it delicious, and mystical to read. She picked up the book, wishing to read it herself immediately. As she opened the cover, and saw the protective paper over the inner cover, she suddenly caught herself and realized that it was a book for Spyro. She crooked her head to the side, wondering how it suited the dragon in anyway whatsoever.

“Spyro… likes folk lore, but not as into it as me…” Cynder remarked, earning her a deep laugh from Omismark.

“Well, you’ve merely underestimated the power of this book,” he replied. “Cynder, it’s a guide.” As Cynder looked to the mole with confusion, he smiled sweetly. “Turn to page thirty-four.”

The dragoness turned the page, and as she read, Cynder suddenly understood what Omismark meant. She made a small smile as she continued to read.

“I compiled the songs myself, as well as the back story.” The old more pulled on his suspenders again. “Perhaps a midday picnic might be the greatest gift there is…”

Cynder looked at him with her sustained smile, and before long she had taken the book. Omismark did not charge Cynder a single dime, for he said that all he wanted was to see the two happy.

“Send Spyro my most loving regards!” the elder mole said, as Cynder pranced off as quickly as she could; book in her cloak’s pouch, and a brilliant plan in mind. Their anniversary would be perfect.


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter of my little late valentine's gift. I had a really fun time with this one, as it's the first time I develop a dynamic between Sparx and Cynder. I just love their love hate relationship.
> 
> Tell me what you think about the story, and how it's developed.

Chapter II:

The newsprint companies of Warfang were no fools when it came to preparing headlines that would get the city talking. Early in the morning, before the rise of the sun and throughout all the districts, young feline lads ran to small booths set up by the busiest intersections. Their shouts could be heard as soon as the first early birds were out and about.

“Spyro, our great dragon leader, and his alleged mate, the she-dragon Cynder, celebrate their supposed anniversary! Read about it here, ladies and gentlemen! Get all the news you need about Warfang’s most controversial couple!” they would shout as they fluttered various newspapers with covers that were less kind than the boys’ yells.  
“The City’s ‘Beloved’ Couple: A Curious Tale of Controversy,” one paper would read.

“Spyro and Cynder: Is their “Mateship” Legitimate? Temple Servants Reveal the Truth,” would state another journal.

It wasn’t until later in the morning that Cynder arose. The dawn had become lovely as the dragoness first opened her eyes. It was warm for a winter day and the sky was clear. Birds sung their sweet melodies, welcoming those leaving sleep’s grasp.

Cynder lifted herself to her haunches, and felt a shrill rush of energy through her back which tensed her body. She stretched and yawned deeply, allowing every muscle to loosen up. She noticed how tender her flesh was. Everything, including the warmth of the air and soft hay of her bed, was notably palpable. The inner thighs of her hind-legs were warm, and pulsed lightly. As consciousness struck the black dragoness, she remembered the dream she had just had. Spyro was in it, and his strong form brought her a deep sensual desire. Cynder was wanting, which was odd indeed, as the sensation of self provoked longing was new to the dragoness. Cynder was somewhat fearful of her lust, as she felt that it was too instinctive. 

But experiencing this desire without his direct presence brought her a strange euphoria now. It made her want to see him before the world would begin to turn. 

She looked about their room, but realized that the dragon had never joined her in the night. When she had arrived yester-night, the dragon was working tirelessly on the city management plan of the eastern districts. She approached him that night after hiding her anniversary gift, and helped as best as she could; but the dragoness grew tired before Spyro had finished, and went off to bed hoping Spyro would follow suit but a short while after. Cynder cursed in silence, realizing that his mate must have surely sacrificed yet another night’s rest on the ceaseless task.

Cynder rose and headed for the room exit, but before she could leave, she heard the distinct whizz of Sparx wings behind her. She turned her head rapidly, and noticed the irritating gnat holding her recently purchased book. The dragonfly turned the pages carelessly, not minding Cynder’s presence by the least. Sparx was rather good at that. Personal space meant nothing to the bugger.

“Hey! Don’t touch that!” Cynder clamored, surprised to see Sparx holding the book. Spyro’s little brother proceeded to pay no attention as he further browsed through the book He finally reacted when Cynder turned her body entirely to face him. A mischievous smile grew on his face.

“You got him a book for your anniversary?” Sparx remarked in a teasing voice “Wow, doom-and-gloom, I knew you weren’t creative… but this?”

“Oh, be quiet, Sparx!” Cynder spoke as she struck a defensive pose and fixed her eyes on him. “Are you here to only bother me?” Sparx looked up, and gave her a quick playful grin before he shook his head. He lowered in altitude and put the book in the drawer it was in. Cynder’s glare deepened. 

“Cynder, Cynder, Cynder…” Sparx started, as he turned back to face the dragoness. “Why would you think your humble, humble message carrier would be so unkind and cruel?” He placed his hands down on his hips tauntingly. “Come on, It’s me, Sparx!”

“That’s what I don’t like,” Cynder replied as she bit her teeth. She began to walk closer to the gnat as he flew over a small table they had in the room. He leaned on a vial of fine perfume. “Tell me, messenger,” Cynder spoke sarcastically, as she caught the fine flask just before it nearly fell on its side. “What news do you have today?”

“Geez!” Sparx remarked, as he gave himself some distance from the ‘female fright.’ “You seem to be put off today. What’s got you in a little knot, missy?” Sparx began to chuckle as he noticed Cynder losing a bit more of her patience. “Aww… is it because poor little Cyn-ie-winnie didn’t see Spyro last night?” At this, Cynder hissed, brandishing her teeth.  
“You little gnat!” Cynder shouted. “Why would you say that?” At the escalation of Cynder’s voice, Sparx raised his hands. He wanted to tease her, but did not know that it would go this far. Cynder jumped and swung a paw at the distant Sparx, which rapidly avoided it.

“Woah, woah!” the dragonfly started. “I didn’t mean to touch your buttons that badly. I’m sorry!” Cynder stood breathing heavily for a moment, but calmed down as she caught her loose emotions. She frowned, her eye ridges closing in. 

“Sorry, Sparx…” Cynder remarked in a weary voice. “It’s not your fault that I got angry, you just triggered me.” Sparx crossed his arms, as honest concern for her rose within him.  
“Are you really that bothered that he wasn’t here last night?” he asked.

“It’s not that… Not exactly,” Cynder answered. “I just don’t like how they treat him.”

“Oh, you mean those block-heads-for-leaders?” Sparx retorted. “Yeah, me neither. You guys have been working far too long on that reconstruction project. We barely do anything anymore.” 

“Yeah…” Cynder replied. Silence was kept for a moment as the two sunk into their own thoughts. Cynder scratched the floor with her claw, and Sparx rubbed his forehead. “Sparx,” Cynder spoke. “What’s your opinion about what they say of us?”

“Who? The people of Warfang?” Sparx inquired. Cynder nodded and looked down. “Oh, well… I don’t know. They seem to go a ‘little’ too far with their hate for you, even in my standards. Heck, I’ve been with you guys for more than a few years and you haven’t killed us… yet.”

“Sparx…” Cynder murmured…

“Kidding!” the dragonfly replied. “Geez…. Anyway, what makes it stranger is that they don’t even fully trust Spyro. Spyro, the all-mighty-lord of selfless sacrifice. He’s more willing to move give up a seat over killing a fly.” At this, Cynder chuckled. The little dragonfly was vexatious at times, but his humor never failed. Spyro was, indeed, a little too caring.  
“So I see,” Cynder mused, as she shook her head humorously.

“Have you heard what they have been saying recently?” Sparx asked. Cynder tilted her head to the side. “Well,” he continued. “Word’s been going around that your mateship is not legitimate. They say that you two have not ‘consummated’.” Cynder rolled her eyes, but was unable to look down in slight shame. “Funny how they used that fancy word when they could have said that there’s a possibility that you two haven’t…” he blabbered on before he gazed down and read Cynder. Sparx eyes widened. “You haven’t…” he started, as Cynder blushed deeply. “Have you?”

“No… we haven’t” Cynder confessed.

“Woah, woah, now that is a biggie,” Sparx remarked. He let a laughter go. “And I thought it was all hearsay; then again… I knew my little purple blob would never have the gonads…”

“It’s not him,” Cynder interrupted. “Spyro really wants it…” She sighed as her confession to the little tricksted became harder. “It’s me. I’ve had a hard time.” Sparx floated down to Cynder’s level as he began to scratch the back of his head. He gave a look that the black dragoness could best describe as ‘foolish.’

“I don’t know what bothers me more: the fact that you just kind of grossed me out by telling me that my fat brother ‘wants it,’ or the fact that you not wanting it kind of turns me off.” Before he could finish, Cynder had him grabbed with both forepaws. She looked right at him with burning eyes.

“I… will… crush you, you know,” the she-dragon bellowed  
.   
“Don’t kill me!” Sparx pleaded half jokingly, before the dragoness began to tighten her grip. He then realized that she was not bluffing. “Really!” he shouted more severely this time. “Don’t kill me!” Cynder scowled at him, as her grip began to loosen. Killing Sparx would solve nothing, after all.

“What you said is not funny,” Cynder started. “It’s a real problem, and I think it bothers Spyro.”

“Oh, come on… something bothering the big lug?” Sparx replied. “I really doubt that. He’s got the patience of a prophetic savior… oh wait! He is one! Or so they say…” Sparx chuckled at a crack that Cynder herself found more provoking than anything. “Point is, that I think something like that can’t bother him. He really likes you.”

Cynder smiled as a blush came on. She thought back to the moments they had shared even before their adventure to stop Malefor began. The dragon was always there, no matter what the consequences were. He followed her when she fled from the temple, and risked his life countless times to save her. He froze himself along with her and Sparx to keep them well, when the great usage of this power could have killed him. When Cynder fell into darkness before the dark master, and she struck the dragon continuously, the dragon did not fight her back. She remembered his words of when she furiously asked him why he would not fight back: ‘Because you’ve left me with nothing to fight for,’ he said.  
She then thought back to when the purple savior asked her to be his mate. She remembered the splendorous waterfall walk, and how the moons lit the sky in eternal beauty. He remembered Spyro’s gentle smile, and the sweet, silly conversations they had as they sat to enjoy the chill of the fall: She remembered talking about Sparx –which was an unavoidable topic with Spyro, as his care for him seemed ceaseless-, and about the mole they met with the curiously burnt half-moustache. She then thought back to the moment it happened.

_“Cynder,” Spyro had started, seeming nervous in a manner which appeared obvious to the watchful black dragoness. “I… wanted to ask you something.”_

_“What is it, Spyro?” Cynder answered back, looking at him intently. The dragon gazed down to the ground nervously, as he began to draw circled with his claw.  
“Do you remember what you said on the day we stopped the world from breaking apart?”_

_“Yeah,” Cynder answered, nervous herself. She remembered exactly what she said. There was a long pause and only the rush of the falls and the rustling of leaves filled the air with sound._

_“Do you want to know what I think?” Spyro asked half awkwardly. The black dragoness’ heart rose to her throat. She nearly choked at the pure suspense.  
There was a long pause, and it seemed to Cynder that the male had frozen. She felt as if the tension of the moment was reaching the point of killing her. She felt such a desire to break the anxiety that she nervously looked to the sky._

_“The stars are beautiful, aren’t they, Spyro?” As Cynder turned her head, her lips suddenly met with his. At that moment, Spyro’s mouth felt like the warmth of the eternal sun, and tasted like the rarest and most delicious of fruits. Cynder felt like all the particles in her body were instantly charged with euphoria unprecedented, and knew that the source was Spyro. The moment lasted millennia in Cynder’s mind, and parting from his kiss was the greatest of injustices Cynder had ever suffered._

_“I love you, Cyn,” Spyro spoke, filling the air with his beautiful, melodious voice. “And if you love me too, I think we should be mates.” Cynder looked to him. He gazed at his precious, amethyst eyes. “Let me be your other half, Cyn,” he spoke again, as his lips met hers once more._

Returning to reality, she realized that Sparx was right. Spyro would always be there, and would always understand her. She wanted to give her his best though, and this she began to hold as she started to head for the door.

“Hey, where are you going?” Sparx asked.

“I’m going to see Spyro,” She remarked, as she opened the door of her room “It’s our anniversary, after all.”

“Don’t do anything too dirty in places where you’re not supposed to!” Sparx teased, as Cynder headed out the door. She simply grinned.

“Sure,” she responded hurriedly. “Sure…”


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Here is the third chapter of Beneath the Stars. And let me tell you that I'm happy to have gotten it done with all the school stuff i have now.
> 
> Anyway... The chapter is split into three parts which you will notice, each one has its own unique feel.
> 
> The third part has a new character that I developed after I was inspired by someone I met in real life. The guy is a character, and his quirks are noteworthy.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter III:**

Spyro was in a dream state; there was no denying that much. His sense of touch, sight, and smell were a far more sensitive than they normally were. He could feel that odd tingle -particular to his trance-like state race from the back of his head to the tip of his feathered tail, only to return to his neck once more. Rising from the floor was effortless, as he felt lighter than a feather.

The purple dragon looked about his surroundings, noticing how odd everything him around was. The area was dark, but he could tell that he was surrounded by stone pillars. Each column glowed pallid-green from the symbols marked around their exterior. Spyro looked to the ground and realized that the same lit symbols were carved on the ancient stone. The markings were interwoven in circles around the dragon, and their light danced from emblem to emblem.

The dragon was cautious to walk about. His eyes were kept sharp as he made a full circle within the confines of the center-space. As hard as Spyro tried, he could not see what laid beyond the glowing columns. He could only see deep darkness.

He turned towards the center of the area, and began to pay attention to the markings on the floor. He knew little of the ancestors’ language, but recognized the symbols for “fate,” “misfortune,” and “darkness” among the patterns. As Spyro made a full circle about the ancient writings, his breath became visible. A bitter cold filled the air. The dragon looked up, and his body tightened when a voice came from the shadows beyond the pillars opposite to him.

“Tell me, Spyro.” It started, deep and dark. “Where are we?” The dragon kept his eyes fixed on the probable origin of the voice, but his heart rose to his throat as he did. Spyro heard footsteps as the shadow-draped creature began to move around the pillars. He could tell it was a dragon, as its claws clicked with every footstep. The purple savior began to circle the area, facing the sound with an alert and defensive demeanor.

The shadowed dragon stopped opposite to where he had been. Spyro was taken by further terror as he suddenly realized that he recognized the voice. His stance lowered and he began to growl.

“Spyro,” it said once more. “Do you know who I am?” Hearing the dark voice again made Spyro confirm his fears. He bared his teeth, as his tail began to whip two and fro aggressively.

“I’m dreaming,” Spyro replied in a harsh voice. “I’m only imagining you.” Again there was silence, and as the seconds passed, the air became drastically colder. Spyro’s breath became full mist, and ice crystals began to form on the pillars opposite to him. At last, the shadow unveiled itself by walking into the dim light of the columns markings. To Spyro’s dismay, the dragon standing was who he feared he was. The dragon was none other than Malefor.

“Then I ask you this,” he said as he rose to full height and glanced down at Spyro. “Can a purple dragon really dream, or is he cursed to be trapped in the world of visions and phantoms forever?” The two purple dragons stood motionlessly. Spyro heart pounded viciously as he looked at his enemy; the sole creature he had hated with every part of his being. The villain stood in a manner different to what he had seen of him before. His head was raised, and his demeanor was noble. A phantom air enveloped him, and rather than appearing maleficent, he looked solemn. His voice was different too; it was not rough like before, but gentle in a ghost-like manner. Spyro did not ease.

“You’re nothing but a dream,” Spyro remarked in a cracked, trembling voice. “You’re a figment.” Malefor continued to glance at the male unmoved. His contemplation of Spyro made the young purple savior feel apprehensive. Spyro growled, causing no more reaction than a slow blink from the former master of evil’s eyes.

“If I were, you would have the power to awaken...” he replied coldly. “But then again, can a purple dragon ever rise from his dreams?” Angry from his words, Spyro felt his body swell with inner flames. A desire to scorch the fiend rose to his throat, but as if by magic, he suddenly felt unable to. The phantom fog that surrounded Malefor had spilled out, and danced about the young dragon. Spyro felt colder than he had ever felt before. The cold reached the core of his body, and cooled it with merciless ice. “You have grown,” Malefor mused.

“Stop it!” Spyro shouted, infuriated by the seemingly-oblivious state Malefor was in. “What do you want?” As if by command of Spyro’s words, Malefor began to move towards him. With each step the fallen villain took, it felt like the air got colder. Everything about him and what he stepped on grew ice. The young purple dragon began to shiver as the cold started to reach his lungs. “Gah…” he breathed out.

“I want to mend things broken long back,” Malefor replied. “I want to hand you the flame I carried in my life.” Spyro hissed, and started to struggle away from the approaching dragon. Every step became heavy, as his body began to struggle against the cold.

“No!” Spyro retaliated. “I will not take your cursed flame.” As he stepped back further, the purple dragon bumped into one of the illuminated pillars. Spyro looked back, and thought of jumping into the shadows to hide, but once again, his subconscious stopped him. He looked back to Malefor. The villain was no further than two arm’s lengths away. The young dragon looked to his eyes, and realized that they were different as well. The lunacy that fueled them before had vanished, and what was left were the gentle eyes of concern. For the slightest moment, Spyro eased.

“You don’t have much of a choice, now,” the phantom remarked. “The flame is yours no matter what you do. It has been destined to be this way since the beginning of time.” The young purple dragon tensed again, and scowled at the enemy.

“What are you talking about?” Spyro growled between his teeth. Malefor took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, its icy mist reached the purple dragon’s face. Spyro’s vision became hazed, but as he refocused his sight, he realized that he saw a dreadful image. In it, he noticed a tall, thin figure of evil nature crowned with stars and draped in black. The space around him became contorted, as if he bent the fabric of reality itself. He then saw his hordes spawning from a great portal in the sky above Warfang. He saw them come down, and bring destruction to the lands about. As he stared to the sky where the portal was again, he noticed how all existence began to be consumed by that evil gate. He felt himself being drawn into it, and at last he felt nothingness. This nothingness was worse than anything he had ever experienced. He could not feel, think, or even exist. In that nothingness, he was trapped in chains eternally confining.

As he fell out of the vision Malefor had laid upon him, the dragon rose from the ground screaming. He was back in the planning room of the city temple. Morning birds sang high on openings in the domed roof above as the dragon began to pant deeply. He had never felt anything so abhorrent in his entire life. The grand nothingness was doom in its purest form.

Spyro scanned the room around him, and noticed the maps and plans before him. A large map before him was partially crumpled, and he noticed it had a small moist stain. He sighed and dropped his head.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” he complained to himself, trying to eliminate all thoughts of the vision he had just seen. He lowered his entire body until his underbelly met the floor. Down on the ground, he began to straighten the wrinkles left on the map by pressing gently on the paper. Straightening the paper was no easy task. Spyro had to be extra careful to not tear through the paper with a slash of his claw.

The automatic doors of the room suddenly parted open. Spyro looked back, and noticed Cynder standing there. She had a small smile, and looked at ease.

“Morning, Spyro,” she said brightly as she walked into the room. She passed through the entrance, and turned to the door.

“Close and lock,” she commanded as the light that signaled that the door was accessible dimmed out. She turned back looked back to the purple dragon, making a devilish smirk. “You never came to the room last night.” Spyro looked back to the maps and documents laid down before him. He continued to straighten the map in shame.

“Yeah,” Spyro remarked in sleepy, low voice. “I just thought I would be able to finish plotting the area in the night.” Cynder shook her head. 

“Naughty, naughty Spyro…” She walked towards the purple dragon in an eloquent, sensual manner. Her hips swung to and fro, her tail following suit in the playful dance. She dropped down next to the purple dragon. Spyro looked up to Cynder as she pecked him on the cheek. A smile grew on his face as he glanced upon her perfect, emerald eyes. “You know the city plans should be stored and locked up during the night,” she teased. Her eyes moved down to the paper as she began to click her tongue in badgering disapproval. 

“And you even got one of the maps wet,” Spyro dropped his head as the dragoness snickered.

“Yeah,” Spyro agreed grudgingly as he turned his head away from Cynder. “I slept on them.”

“Well, then,” Cynder replied, giving Spyro a small nudge on the shoulder. “Someone’s going to have to punish you.” Spyro glanced back as the black dragoness nibbled on his on his jaw-line. The small bite first tickled Spyro, but then aroused him.

“Oh, Cyn…” 

For a moment, Spyro and Cynder kept a harmonious silence. The female dragon laid her head on the male’s shoulder. She looked up and noticed the song birds high above them. Their melody was sweet and enchanting. It gave the air a magical feel palpable to both lovers.

“You know,” Cynder spoke, lifting her head to gaze at Spyro. “Today’s our anniversary.”

“I know,” he remarked, smiling coyly and pressing his head down on hers. “I was just waiting to see which one would have to break the news.” The ebony dragoness half closed an eye and raised an eye-bridge. His vague answer gave her the impression that he may have forgotten.

“You… didn’t forget, right?” she asked sincerely. The male dragon lifted his head and smiled. Leaning his head towards Cynder, he caught her with a passionate kiss on the lips. The female dragon tensed momentarily by the surprise, but then eased into the burning bond. The dragon breathed out through his nose, which tickled Cynder’s muzzle. It made her lightly laugh as she broke the kiss. Gazing at the male dragon’s wanting eyes only made her fall back into it. 

The fire of passion within each was kindled as their kiss was lengthened. The desire Cynder carried from the room early on was intensified infinitely. Any doubts she had about his partner not remembering had evaporated. Spyro broke the kiss, only to tease the dragoness. “You seem to be happy,” he playfully remarked. Cynder glared, reacting to his taunt.

“It’s not only me, big boy.” She looked down to his chest. With her bright eyes she pointed to how Spyro breathed in a heavy, slow manner. Cynder knew there was no clearer sign of excitement from him .

“Oh, that?” Spyro replied, pressing a paw against his chest. “That’s because I can’t wait to give you your gift.” At the word ‘gift,’ Cynder´s tail joyfully swung straight up and then down. The dragoness felt childish excitement fill her as he revealed that he had a gift for her. She tried to conceal it, but was unable as a smile broke through. “I can bring it for you now, if you want. I just have to-“ Before Spyro could lift himself up on his four, the ebony dragoness placed her paw upon his.

“Wait,” Cynder quickly interrupted. Their eyes suddenly met as she moved her tail to wrap around his. Knowing that she could easily damage her partner with the bladed end of her tail, she was eternally delicate. Within no time had him held. “I… don’t really care about that; as long as we can have a moment here.” Spyro raised an eye ridge in askance. “Spyro…” she took a deep breath, feeling her chest tighten from her nerves. “How about we… try?” The purple dragon’s second eye ridge shot up.

“You… want to try?” He asked as his head tilted to the side. It had been a month since the last time they had ‘tried,’ and that had ended in failure.

“I do,” she remarked as she leaned in closer to Spyro. Her lips met with his once more; their mouths being warm, moist havens for passion and desire. Spyro’s scales bristled as he felt her shoulder press against his. He rolled onto his back instinctively as Cynder moved on top of him. His mind became hazed with arousal the black dragoness began to kiss his collar bone.

The female dragon moved her lips further down, eyeing every scale on his body before she kissed it. She noticed his build; he was strong and as virile as any brave champion. As she began to kiss the center of his chest, she gazed upon every scar he had. The cuts and scrapes from weapons, teeth and claws were noticeable from the closeness. She gazed at a great scar as she moved to kiss one of his shoulders. The dragoness placed her lips upon it.

“I never noticed this one before,” Cynder remarked, as she placed her claw upon the mark. “Who caused it?” Spyro, who had eyed her every action in sweet bliss, chuckled. 

“That was Gaul,” Spyro answered. “On the Night of Eternal Darknes.” Cynder gazed up with her vivid emerald eyes as memories of that dark night returned to her. She remembered how hard bravely he fought after she had been struck down. His courage and desire to protect her on that night was the turning point in her feelings for him. After that moment, she was certain she loved him.

She looked down to the scar again, keeping her claw upon it.

“It looks deep,” she remarked, kissing him again. Moving his opposite paw upon it, Spyro began to rub the mark.

“It was deep,” Spyro agreed. His eyes met the dragoness’ again, causing them both to smile.

“Well, what a cruel and unruly ape,” Cynder added as she returned to their love-making game. “And, by the way, your memory’s amazing.” Spyro moved his paw to rub her jaw-line as he smiled.

“You always seem to tell me that,” he remarked.

“Well, I can’t remember who gave me which scar like you do.” She moved back down, and began to kiss him below his rib cage. As Cynder did, she noticed the old scars he had down here. She remembered how Spyro Spyro had come to admit that these marks had been caused during his battles with her dark self. The scars ran deep under his skin, and looked like the marks of a viscous enemy. The dragoness placed her lips upon these with more compassion than ever before. Spyro groaned with timidly exposed pleasure from the peck. “I love you,” Cynder whispered in a soft coo. “I love you more than anything in this world.” Spyro took a deep ardent breath as he felt his desire begin to show. The purple savior was sure that this would be the day, and that nothing would stop them. As Cynder felt his warmth press against her skin, a rush of erratic energy ran through her spine. An odd mix of fear and the impulse to mate with her lover rushed through to her. 

Cynder crawled up the dragon to place herself above him when the locked door behind them activated. The light upon the centerpiece of the stone hatchway came to life as a voice became audible. Both dragons looked back in terror as the doors opened, and before them stood a tall, silk draped, well postured feline. The intruder was focused on a set of documents he was studying before he had opened the door; but as he gazed up, his jaw dropped. He gave as small yelp as he rushed into the room. Grazing back at the doors, he rapidly gave them the command to shut and then shot his gaze back to the two dragons. They frantically looked for cover behind the maps and documents on the floor.

“Grazen!” Spyro called in a nervous tone of shame. The feline turned his full body with an airy motion of his feet. His fists beamed down as his tail began to whip.

“In all my years,” he began, swallowing the irritation he had. “As your public relations adviser, I have never been so shocked!” Spyro and Cynder both grinned nervously as he lifted his chest and put his hands together. “What is the meaning of this?” Cynder moved in front of the purple dragon, covering the more ‘exposed’ aspects of his body.

“We were just… trying,” she quickly said without thinking, mouthing the words between an awkward laugh. Grazen shot his hands to his waist as he popped his hip to the left. He did not reply, but gave a look of shocked wonder instead. “We… we need to have a way to prove we’re mates, after all,” Cynder clarified. With this, Grazen lifted his hand and pointed at them as he began to walk towards them with a look of irritation.

“But not here,” he said as he reached their side. Quickly, he reached down for the documents on the floor and began to fold them with systematic precision. “Not in a way that can make us lose image.” He swooned to his side dramatically. “Think of our reputation!” Both Spyro and Cynder shot a glance at each other as the feline raced to return several of the already folded documents to their shelves. He returned to folding more documents when he noticed the crumpled moist map. “And you got the maps wet! Dear dear.”

“That was me when I fell asleep!” Spyro remarked in their defense. The feline shot a cold glare at him as he began to fold the map. “It’s only drool.” Paying no attention to Spyro’s utterances, Grazen continued to return the documents on the floor to their place. He worked with mechanical speed, and had everything neat and orderly in no time. 

As he walked back to Spyro and Cynder from his last trip to the shelves, the feline took his pocket watch out, and stared at it for a good moment or two. Returning it to his pocket, he lifted the books he was carrying before from the ground. 

“Good,” he stated as he took a deep breath. “We still have an hour and a half before the council arrives.” He looked to both dragons that sat on their haunches. “Now tell me what the reason for that…” he paused to find the right word. At last, he did. “Indecency was. Do you want to cause more controversy than we already have?” This irritated Cynder. She lifted her head up and scowled at their advisor.

“Wait just a minute,” Cynder growled. “We were just spending some time together,” Grazen put his hand, along with the books he held, upon his popped hip once more.

“In the council room?” he asked satirically, earning him a deeper glare from Cynder. “It’s a good thing that your brother Sparx told me where the two of you were,” he continued, turning his attention to the purple dragon. Spyro and Cynder glanced at each other again, as their attention turned to the little dragonfly. For a moment, Cynder wished she could burn the little gnat to a crisp. “Otherwise, the consequences would be great.” He began to rub his forehead with the tip of his fingers. “Just imagine the councilors arriving to such tomfoolery.”

“Well, we’re sorry,” Spyro said as he fixed his saddened eyes on the feline. “We should have paid attention to where we were.” Cynder, who looked to Spyro, rolled her eyes.

“You’re right about that. It’s not the right place at all,” he placed himself upright again. He eyed both dragons, and realized –or at least assumed- that he had scorned them too much. He cleared his throat and pressed his lips together. “Do keep in mind that I mean neither of you any harm,” he stated with a concerned tone. “It’s just that we have sensitive eyes upon us all the time.”

“Right,” Spyro agreed as he waved his hand. “We should be a little more careful.”

“Correct,” Grazen agreed as he looked down to the floor for a moment. Quickly, he lifted his booklet, and turned the cover and pages. He reached the last bits of writing and began to point to them. “Well,” he began. “First, I should congratulate the two of you for your anniversary,” he sighed as he began to mumble “It should have been the first thing I did.” His words of concern lightened the mood, and both Spyro and Cynder smiled.

“You sure are the orderly type,” Cynder remarked sarcastically.

“Well, of course!” he replied, being oblivious to the intention of her words. “If that weren’t the case, we would be in greater trouble than we are now.” 

“Well,” Spyro spoke, smiling at their feline assistant sympathetically. “What else do you have in your calendar for today?” With those words, Grazen looked back down to his notes. For a second he struggled to understand his own writings, so he reached to his left pocket and took out a set of wood framed glasses. He placed them on with grace and speed.

“Well,” he started, gazing back at his notes. “Since it is your anniversary, we have a set of public events that we must be a part of.” He flipped the page, and looked to notes he had on the other side. As he did, Cynder rolled her eyes and huffed. She looked to Spyro, and noticed that, despite his general positive attitude, he also felt displeased.

“And what events are those?” Spyro asked.

“Two,” Grazen answered. “The first is a public conference outside the gates of the temple. All you have to do is say that it’s your anniversary, make a statement about how much you two love each other, and answer questions that the press may have.” Grazen moved his hand to his pocket and took his watch out once more. “That happens two hours from now.” The dragons nodded with partial reluctance. The idea of having to be prepared for something they did not particularly enjoy brought them no amusement. They had no other choice, though; so all they could do is accede. “The second event is a banquet,” the advisor continued. “That will take place with the fall of the sun, at night.”

“Great,” Cynder said sarcastically. “Another wonderful dinner with the money snobs…”

“Now, now, Cynder,” the feline replied as he fixed his glasses. “We can’t be rude to the ones funding our reconstruction efforts, can we?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because what would we be without their help after, I don’t know… we saved their sorry as-“

“Cyn,” Spyro intervened as he placed a paw on the agitated dragoness’ shoulder. “We cannot be ungrateful.” Cynder brushed the dragon’s paw off with a motion of her shoulder. She looked away and snorted.

“Sure, while they can.”

“Anyway,” the feline intervened, breaking the tension. “Like it or not, you will have to attend. It’s your anniversary banquet, after all. It would be strange if the two guests of honor would not arrive.” Cynder shook her head.

“Will we at least have the right to go anytime in the day?” she asked as he glanced away from both Grazen and Spyro from the irritation.

“Well, sure,” the advisor replied. “There’s nothing wrong with that, according to my schedule.” Spyro frowned as he looked to Cynder. There was nothing that hurt him more than seeing her infuriated; his gentle nature would reject it. He turned his attention to the feline, still concerned for the female dragon.

“Do we need wear anything?” the dragon asked. Grazen nodded.

“Your simple purple and green cloaks,” he answered. “They’ll look suitable on you.” As Spyro nodded, he noticed Cynder stand and walk towards the door. The purple dragon then gazed at her half bewildered.

“We’ll be at the entrance hall in an hour and a half,” Cynder said, without turning her head. As Grazen turned to look at Spyro, he noticed that the dragon was as confused as he was. Without a question or second thought, the male dragon followed his partner out the door.


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back with a spanking new chapter! wahoo!
> 
> Just a few things before we begin. First I want to thank my big sister for giving me a hand with every chapter of this story. Every time I finish a chapter I drag her to my room to read what I have written, and she does a wonderful job and fixing my mistakes. I was talking about this with someone here a while back, and I told him/her that what you see here is the outcome of the original writing and a LOT of editing. I thank her for all her help.
> 
> Which leads me to my second point: I want you guys to give me a hand with the reviews you leave on this fic. It would be awesome if you would give me your honest opinion about my writing, character development, and story progression. Any help would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the reading.

Chapter IV:

Cynder had hastily strutted out into the hallways of the temple by the time Spyro caught up. He walked behind Cynder, trying to follow her as best as he could, but her steps were quick and heavy. She turned left and right, passing by rooms and temple workers with great inattention. Everything slowly came to life as the morning sun began to peek into the temple, yet Cynder kept her head bowed, attempting to block everything around her out.

"Cyn?" Spyro asked as he doubled his walking speed to reach her side. As he stepped by her side, he looked to his partner. Her eyes were half closed and her brow was pushed towards the center of her bridge. Her lips were sealed tight and her nostrils flared.

"Cyn?" he asked again, catching her attention as he looked to her side.

"What?" Cynder asked in a pugnacious manner.

"What's wrong?" he inquired. The two dragons arrived to their room and incautiously entered. Spyro stopped near the entrance as Cynder took a few steps in front of the dragon. She rolled her eyes as she turned around to face him.

"'What's wrong?'" she repeated his question, angered. "Everything…" she answered, shaking her head. "Everything is wrong." Spyro glanced to the ground.

"I… I don't understand." The purple savior said as he looked to her again with eyes of sorrow. Cynder, brutally disturbed by Spyro's soft spoken words, stamped a forepaw on the floor.

"How don't you understand?" Cynder asked, as she thrust her chest forward. "The people of Warfang treat us like old garbage, the new council uses you like a tool, and we're just little faces for the whole world to criticize." The black dragoness began to pant heavily as the purple dragon made eye contact with the dragoness. Spyro sat and remained quiet as disappointment filled his chest and weighed him down. His frown only deepened as Cynder huffed. "And you allow them to treat you that way, which is worse!"

"That's not true, Cyn," he replied as he took a deep, heavy breath. "We do everything possible to make them feel satisfied. What they think of us is beyond us."

"But why, Spyro?" Cynder snapped. "Why do we break our backs for these people when they clearly don't want us around?" Spyro kept his silence again, as Cynder began to walk back and forth. The dragoness looked over the room, spotting Spyro's made and unused bed. Bothered by this single fact, Cynder snorted. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at her partner again. "I mean, I can understand why they would hate and use me for what I did; but you? You weren't even able to sleep on your own bed because of their damned deadlines!" Spyro's eyes caught hers as he shot a glare.

"I decided to do them that favor, Cyn," he retorted. "I wanted to have today as clear of task as possible." The dragon puffed as he stepped closer to the dragoness. He thought back to the words she had just spoken. The fact that she degraded herself again bothered him deeply. He felt anger fill him, but he tried to hold it in. "And don't you blame yourself for what you did," he stated. Cynder stepped away, turning her back on him.

"Regardless of what I think about myself," she started. "They still blame me."

"You shouldn't care," Spyro responded. "You shouldn't care about what they think. Cynder, we've been through this before." Cynder spun on her two back legs to face the dragon.

"I don't," she spoke in a harsh, deep voice. "I do my best to not care every day… But Spyro, they put blame on you as well." Spyro's upper eye lids half dropped with disapproval. "Haven't you heard them? They eat you for allegedly being power-hungry. They owe you everything, and give you nothing."

"It's not that bad," Spyro replied. "Whenever we're out helping, they're always grateful."

"Yeah," Cynder snapped. "The ones who need it desperately, not the bastards we have to deal with the most."

"We just need to gain thier trust," Spyro retorted. "They don't believe in u for what happened in the past, but we can fix that."

"Can we?" she asked as her temper escalated. "The only thing they see when they look to me is the Terror of the Skies that slew their people and made their lands barren; then to look to you, and see The Savior of Fools that decided to take the Terror in. Spyro, some still think that I'm out to do Malefor's bidding. The rumor is spread through every sensationalist news print out in the city." The purple dragon snorted as a burst of anger filled him.

"Do you think that should bother us?" Spyro asked. "Cynder, I know what they say, but I don't allow it to get to me." He dropped his head down, as he tried to ease himself. Noticed his action, Cynder glared.

"But what if they take action?" Cynder replied. "What if they decided that we are targets? It's glares and scowls for now, but for how long?" The dragoness turned, and walked towards the open window in the room. With a small leap, she propped her upper body on the window stand. Looking to the busy city streets below brought her worry and sorrow, so she looked to the skies, gazing at the clouds that traveled high above. "What if they try to hurt you?" she asked, as her eyes moved back to the dragon.

"We have friends," Spyro replied in a softer voice. "Not everyone hates us." The male dragon then smiled, looked to his bed, and walked in its direction. Cynder kept her eye on him as he lifted some of the hay bedding next the wall, making a small mess. She dropped from the window stand as he continued to move the bedding about, digging his paw deep into the center of the pile. At last he stopped short and began to lift his whole figure up. Carefully, he took a secret item from the hay with him and rose to face the dragoness. With a gentle, caring glance, Spyro reached the dragoness.

The purple dragon sat on his rump and put his entire weight on his two hind legs and tail. Lifting one of Cynder's paws, he opened it and placed the treasure he held.

"More importantly," Spyro softly said. "We have each other." Cynder eyed the contents of her paw. She looked upon a necklace of fine and mystical craftsmanship. The lace was of woven long grass, interlaced with such skill to make it look like the most decorous of fine-rope. The grass itself remained as green as when it was picked, and small lines of wheat about the lace gave the effect that it was gilded. As a pendant, a vibrant dragonflower of pinks and reds decorated the gift. It gave off a soft light, as if enchanted by magic. Cynder stared at the present with eyes of astonishment and delight. The work dedicated to the treasure could be appreciated with a careful eye: if observed attentively, small patterns of two dragons flying together could be seen engraved along the rope.

Drawn away from all concerns, Cynder looked to Spyro. The male's eyes were on the gift, but slowly they rose to meet hers. His soft smile, which had brought her anger and worry before, now scared all fears away. Like magic, her problems drifted off like sand in the breeze.

"Did you make this?" she asked cradling the gift with the greatest of care. He nodded.

"My mom taught me how," he answered. "We would spend a lot of time together while Sparx and dad were out. Since I was so clumsy, she thought teaching me a careful craft would help me, so I learned." Cynder could not help but to smile at his words. The simplicity of his nature was all but precious to the female.

She then thought him as a whole. The male dragon was more than simplicity; to Cynder, he was courage, strength, patience, wisdom, and love. The dragon was pure light to her.

"Do you like it?" the young dragon asked, rubbing his forearm. Driven by a force unrestrained, Cynder leaped to the dragon and pressed her head against his forehead. The black dragoness felt a sudden rush of emotions, which she tried to resist; but tears started to roll down her muzzle. Spyro looked down to the dragoness, as he felt a wet sensation on his chest. "Cynder, are you okay?"

"Spyro, I'm sorry for what I said before," she spoke as clearly as she could. "I'm sorry that I called you weak… I'm sorry." Spyro lifted his paw up to her shoulder as he kissed her forehead.

"You don't have to be sorry, Cynder," Spyro replied. "I understand what you fear: I'm afraid of it too; but whenever I'm afraid, I think of you and it all goes away. We have each other, and that's what counts." Cynder pressed her head tighter against Spyro as she closed her eyes. She felt his breathing with all her senses. The raise and drop of his chest had a precious and mechanic rhythm; the sound of air entering and leaving his lungs was a melody of healthy life to her ears; the soft grazing of his scaled upon her tender face eased the dragoness greatly. She smelled the dragon, and allowed the natural scent of his sweat to fill her. Cynder did not know why, but she always perceived a sweetness in his aroma that intoxicated her.

They remained in silence, feeling the life and energy within each other, when an insidious image crawled into the black dragoness' mind. She suddenly imagined not having the sound of his breathing, the pulse of his heart, or the rise and fall of his chest anymore. She imagined Spyro dead; and as she did, her whole form quaked. The thought grew in magnitude as she began to figure that his downfall would be the city.

"Spyro," she said in a trembling voice. "Why did we come back here after we saved the world? We could have left, and disappeared for good." Spyro glanced back down to Cynder as she began to shed tears again.

"Because of Sparx, and the Guardians," he replied frowning. "Because the ancestors knew that we still have a mission to fulfill."

"Haven't we done enough?" Cynder asked.

"We have," Spyro agreed. "But many still suffer. We have to do what we can to save them." With that, Cynder raised her head.

"If we do," she began staring at the dragon directly. "If we have no choice but to be the servants of fate, promise me one thing." Spyro nodded, conceding.

"Anything." Cynder moved her body closer to his. Their lips met, she kissed him like she never would ever again. Her passion overflowed.

"Promise me," Cynder spoke between kisses. "That you will not perish." Spyro pushed his lips against hers with more intensity than ever before.

"I promise, Cynder," Spyro answered still kissing the dragoness. "And I promise to be your protector."

"I'll promise to be your guardian," Cynder replied.

"Then I'll promise to be your lover," remarked Spyro with more passionate kisses.

"And I'll promise I'll be your friend," Cynder countered.

"Then I'll be your mate," Spyro retorted.

"Then I'll see you get jiggy with it!" The dragons shot their glance up to the left of them as they heard the third voice. Spyro dropped on to his side abashed and Cynder growled as they both looked at Sparx. The dragoness' teeth were fully bared, as being barged in on two times in a row began to seem like the culmination of bad luck.

"Sparx!" they shouted in unison. Enflamed with anger, and irritated by the sole fact that he flew at such a distance from her, Cynder grabbed a vase from the nearest stand and threw it at him.

"Woah!" Sparx shouted as he dodged the large projectile that exploded into shards on the ceiling. "I know not being able to catch a break is bad and all, but that is taking it a little too far."

"What are you doing here?" Cynder asked between her teeth.

"Umm… I don't know?" he said sarcastically. "Maybe I was taking a little nap in that corner when the two of you barged in here." The dragonfly pointed to a corner which, by unsavory misfortune, Cynder had not paid attention to as they had walked in. She hissed and began to curse their bad luck. "Geez, find a room."

"This is our room!" Cynder shouted.

"Well, then look for an empty room!" As Sparx looked to the infuriated dragoness, he chuckled. "And calm down or you'll pop a vein."

"How long have you been awake, Sparx?" Spyro asked out of pure curiosity.

"Hmm… Maybe… perhaps from the moment the two of you barged in here like giant grunt worms." Cynder violently shifted her whole body down as she prepared to leap into flight when a knock was heard on the door. The three inhabitants of the room stopped mid action –including Sparx, who crossed his arms as to protect himself from what was to come of Cynder's fury- as they heard the voice of one of the female temple servants.

"Spyro, Cynder, Grazen suggests you to have breakfast before your conference. The cooks have prepared hot cakes and fruits for the two of you," she said from behind the door. Cynder eased her stance and stood up, Spyro rose from the ground, and Sparx lowered his hands as they heard the woman walk away.

"Well, see!" Sparx spoke nervously. "We all have to go eat out there where you won't kill me." Sparx flew towards the door. "I wonder if they have something good for me too," he said as the door opened and he left.

Looking stand where the vase once existed, Cynder noticed that she had luckily placed her present there. She picked it up and walked towards Spyro. Without asking, the purple dragon grabbed the gift and helped to put it around her neck. All the time he chuckled.

"We really can't catch a break, can we?"

"Nope," Cynder responded coldly, succumbing to the evil fate that held them. Spyro clipped the back on the necklace, and pecked her on the lips.

"Well then," Spyro laughed. "Let's go." With that, the two dragons left the room.

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